Monthly Archives: March 2008

I started this project long before Toby L. Cat showed up, but I got the decorative strip pinned on and then lost all steam to finish. Last week I finally finished and added ties to keep the sides shut.

What is it, you ask? A sewing machine cozy, of course. It keeps things like dust and cat hair out of the machine and interesting small chewable things out of Toby’s way. And it keeps everything, well, cozy.I’m glad I got this out of the way because I feel a project-filled weekend coming up: The navy gingham will be here soon, and Monday I got fabric for a new summer handbag project. It will be this shape:But in this fabric:It is, of course, Toby-approved.

The Toby Show last week consumed all my attention, so I forgot there was a birth and a death anniversary of my two favorite artists: Friday the 21st was Bach’s birthday in 1685, and Friday the 28th was the day in 1941 when poor Virginia Woolf walked into the River Ouse.

1. KHAN!! KHAN!! I’ve been on a kick of sci-fi movies while I knit this endless cotton sweater: We’ve watched the original Star Wars movies and the last newest one; Starship Troopers (so very bad); the David Lynch version of Dune (which almost made Toby get named Leto, except he looked like a Toby); and, last night, The Wrath of Khan. Up next: The Search for Spock. I haven’t seen any of the Star Trek movies as an adult, so it’s pretty awesome.

My upstairs neighbors are not particularly light of foot. I’ve seen both of them and neither of them weigh 300 pounds, but it sounds as if they do. Last night they were babysitting a small child, so there were three people running, crashing, and dropping things. I’ve learned to tune out the running, crashing, and dropping that starts every morning at 6:30, but Toby was bothered by the sounds last night, too.

I had to think of the Grinch wanting to steal Christmas from the Whos because they make noise. I’d do it to the Stompys if I could.

For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Who girls and boys, Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

I still need to photograph the pattern and the four variations I’ve made from it that I talked about last week, but I got distracted and photographed Toby watching birds out the window:I’ve been knitting, too–a cotton cardigan to wear over dresses in the summer–but there’s really nothing to see yet, since I’m not past the shoulders and it’s just plain stockinette. If you want to imagine it in tan, it’s this pattern.

And inspired by the goat pictures and Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, I’ve ordered some navy gingham to make into a dress that hopefully will come off more like a sophisticated nod to hobby farms than Dorothy from Kansas. (We shall see.)

After one trip to the PetSmart Saturday adoption, one last-minute test for FIV, two different kinds of treats, three different kinds of food, twenty-four daylight hours of hiding under the bed, seven nighttime hours of yowling loud enough to wake the upstairs neighbors, one kitty bed, one purchased mouse toy, one homemade yarn toy, one robe tie that became a toy, and half a bag of catnip, Toby has joined the household:And I’m so glad he did, because I was seriously doubting my cat-whispering skills during the Saturday Night of Yowls. Thankfully that was followed by the Sunday Night of “I’ll Sleep So Close To You You Won’t Be Able To Roll Over And You’ll Get A Leg Cramp But You’ll Love It Because I Am So Very Cute.”

1. It’s been kind of a dark week in posts–major problems with our food supply, sickly cats, unending wars–so here’s a link to a video of a cat purring. Mr. Isbell watched it and said, “That’s almost a lion noise.” These are some serious purrs.

2. If you want to leave work early today, say you want to go to a “choral meditation” at the Cathedral of the Madeleine and no one will give you a hard time.(They will think you’re Catholic, though.) You’ll get to hear the Pergolesi Stabat Mater.

3. In other entertainment news, the midnight movie at the Tower this weekend is Duel! My brother owns this movie, along with other awesome road classics such as Two Lane Blacktop and Vanishing Point.

Happy Vernal Equinox! Curiously, there isn’t a lot of history about how Druids celebrated this holiday, but the Christian way of determining Easter is Pagan enough: The first Sunday after the first full moon that follows the spring equinox.

And as of yesterday, we marked five years of the Iraq war. There’s a really good article in the Tribune (I know, I never thought I’d say that, either) about the local protest that only drew 75 people, and about public apathy in general. To quote, “Just one in four Americans know that nearly 4,000 U.S. service members have died in Iraq.” We’re at 4,000 dead and 30,000 injured–and people think putting a “Support Our Troops” car magnet on their SUVs (not even a bumper sticker, a magnet) makes them good concerned citizens.

Perhaps you were wondering if, after nearly a year of dithering, preparing, and looking online, I actually went and looked for a cat in person last weekend. I did, while I was getting a litter box at PetSmart, and I saw a little cat that spoke to me. (He was actually behind glass in the more permanent pet display in the store, but I saw his mouth open.)

His name was Gus and he was a young Siamese with a white nose; I called his foster Sunday afternoon and left a message. I had thought I wanted an orange cat, but Gus had meowed at me through the glass and then played with a toy! I had to call again Monday (all after arranging the litter box and thinking where Gus would like to sleep best and how cute he would be) and then found out someone had already spoken for him a few hours before I saw him.

I was sad, but moved right on to the next one I had seen on PetFinder, Harvey: Harvey was big and orange and white, which I told myself I really wanted in the first place. There’s a video of Harvey online and in it he’s rolling around and trying to give the camera head butts–that’s even better than meowing through glass! I filled out the online application Monday morning and heard back right away from the adoption coordinator, and spent most of Tuesday waiting to hear from Harvey’s foster parent.

We spoke in the afternoon and I heard all about how Harvey had been rescued from a feral colony and was sweet and mellow and a good indoor-only cat. I told his foster that Harvey sounded perfect and I wanted take him home, and we had planned that and were saying our goodbyes when his foster said, “He is FIV positive, by the way.”

Now, I can understand why a shelter wouldn’t indicate online if their animals are FIV or FeL positive, because obviously people don’t want to adopt a cat that will require extra medical attention. But I was so disappointed, because I had set my heart on Harvey the way I had set it on Gus 48 hours before, and I know I can’t take on a cat with FIV. It would be too hard for me to cover the kind of vet care I would want to give Harvey (or Wilbur, for that matter), and if I couldn’t provide that care, I would feel terrible.

I felt pretty terrible anyway after I found out I would not be adopting an orange-and-white kitty that gives head bonks. My co-worker firmly believes that “pets choose the person they’re meant to be with”–not a comforting thought last night.

I’ve been avoiding going to shelters because it would be sad to not be able to take all the cats home, but after the last few days I think that might have to be plan B: Go with no expectations to a place where they’re not named, just numbered, and see what cat “chooses” me. It’s that, or I should return the litter box.

(Seriously, people just take a kitten from a box in front of the grocery store that says “Free” and boom, they have a cat. They put out food and adopt a stray and have a cat. Crazy cat ladies have hundreds of cats! It shouldn’t be this hard.)